Love, Olivia

Girl Crush

Being back at school after the conversation on Wednesday with Olivia had Ophelia reeling. How did she not notice? How could she not pick up on any vibes from Olivia? These were her thoughts walking down the hall as she pulled her flannel shirt a little tighter around her in the cold air conditioning. 

Will she still pick on me? Ophelia wondered as she opened her locker. She had gone to school yesterday and didn't even see a whip of her hair anywhere. But now it was Friday and Ophelia couldn't help but search for her

"Hey, bitch," she heard behind her. She jumped and turned quickly, hitting her shoulder on her locker door.

"Want a pixie stick?" Olivia offered, hand outstretched with the tube of sugar in a pink paper tube.

"My Dad says those to turn you into a whore," shot Ophelia, but immediately regretted it. She hadn't meant to sound aggressive.

"Probably," shrugged Olivia, seemingly unbothered by Ophelia's jab. The sound of clicking high heels could suddenly be heard and the gentle smile disappeared from Olivia's face.

"What are you doing hanging around Girl Crush?" her friend Tina asked snootily.

"She's not hitting on you, is she?" another asked.

"No," Ophelia sneered slightly. "Just observing what not to wear."

They all giggled and walked away together, leaving a confused and annoyed Ophelia behind.

The last class of her day, poetry club, was almost over. Ophelia had avoided having to read her poem but only two more people and it would be her turn. 

Veila was the last to read before Ophelia; her poem was about her cat that died two weeks ago and it brought tears to Ms. Heathers eyes, who was a known cat lover. As she dabbed underneath her eyes, she motioned for Ophelia to read.

"You're go, sweetheart."

Ophelia looked around and sank in her seat a little, surveying the sets of eyes that drifted around the room and eventually landed on her.

"This one is called The Road Home. I wrote it after uh, after my mom died and my Dad and I moved to a new house." She shuffled a moment and then began to read.

"I spent so much time making my home into a house that my body forgot it was my home
I half expected the muscles under my skin to absent mindedly turn the steering wheel towards my old house, but they never did
Sometimes I find myself in a fit of nostalgia and I purposefully drive down those roads just to watch the leaves change color
You know, the ones that hang over the bridge I always take too fast?
Not used to going slow, I jump right in, head first, giving everything my all only to cry about it that night
I curse at passing cars that forget to turn off their high beams only to forget about them five seconds later
The long stretch that takes me to my new house used to be the road home
Now it is just a road."

She looked up from her notebook to the silent people around her. Ms. Heather sat on her desk, handkerchief still to her eyes, and said nothing.

"I'm sorry was that, was that not good for the assignment?" Ophelia asked nervously.

"No, I think you just made us all feel your pain," Veila said next to her. "I hurt," she said softly. "That hurt."

They slowly all began to snap and Ophelia sank into her a chair a little farther, embarrassed by the attention but pleased with herself.  The the bell rang and they all began to shuffle out of class, collecting their books and zipping up backpacks but Ms. Heather paused Ophelia a moment.